MidLife
by Osidiano
Summary: Drabble written for the pw kinkmeme and inspired by the September 2nd, 2010 prompt, "in ten years, the world will have changed." Damon Gant and Gregory Edgeworth muse over their shared past and possible future several years before DL-6.


**Disclaimer/Notes:** I do not own the Ace Attorney games, or any of the characters mentioned here. They belong to Capcom, and no money is being made off of this piece of fiction. This story was written solely for entertainment purposes, and no copyright infringement was intended. Please, do not sue. All original ideas are original (duh) and belong to me, unless otherwise mentioned. This story is **unbeta'd**, but otherwise needs no warnings. Enjoy.

**Mid-Life**

"Is it 'detective' now?" the younger man mused, his dark eyes closed behind thick lenses as he laid back on the grass with arms folded and fingers interlocked behind his head. The other man glanced over from where he had been idly picking shapes out of the clouds, focusing on the way the younger man's prematurely silver hair fell forward across his pale brow. Damon frowned, propping himself up on his elbows before replying:

"It was detective before, Edgey."

"But it's still 'detective,' isn't it? Even after the promotion?" Gregory smiled, cracking one eye open to meet his friend's gaze. "I don't mean to say that it's not a big deal—"

"Not everyone can be an attorney," Damon remarked with a shrug. He laid back down in the grass and looked up at the clouds passing overhead. "Besides, I'm a senior detective now. This promotion means that I can finally afford that nice place on the hill."

"The one with the Olympic-sized swimming pool in the yard? You're very predictable, Damon."

"That pool is my mid-life crisis."

"I thought your wife was your mid-life crisis?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. So maybe it is my _mid-_mid-life crisis," Damon coughed, shifting uncomfortably. He never liked it when the conversation would turn to wives, though Gregory seemed to bring it up at least once in every discussion. Maybe he liked to remind them both that their school days were over; they were both on different paths with women who had become almost central to their daily lives. They weren't as young as they had once been. Damon pursed his lips thoughtfully, rolling onto his side to continue his earlier point. All this talk of the past made him ache for the future. "Though you know, being a senior detective isn't that far a step down from being head of the Homicide Department. With a little bit of work, and some intense networking, I bet I could be Chief of Police someday. I already have a team of detectives working beneath me—"

"Minions?" the term was offered up helpfully, but Damon just snorted and rolled his eyes before correcting the younger man:

"_Subordinates_, Edgey. You make me sound like a wicked old man."

"Well, you're not getting any younger, now are you?"

"Speak for yourself, old boy. _You're_ the one married with children."

"Child. Singular." They both paused. Normally, they didn't talk about sons, either. It was a taboo subject, but now that it was hanging in the air between them, they could not ignore it. Damon sighed through his nose, but asked the question anyway:

"Speaking of which, how is your son?" Gregory chuckled, but otherwise made no comment on the change in topics. Damon wondered if he was alone in his discomfort. Maybe Gregory had outgrown that period of their lives when they were young enough not to care what the rest of the world thought and stupid enough to think that it did not matter. But to Damon, Gregory had never been 'just a phase.'

"Miles is doing fine. He just got over a cold."

"Oh, is this his first?" he feigned interest and concern. He should have minored in theater.

Gregory nodded. "Mmn. It was terrifying; Melissa and I were calling the doctor every few minutes. Though that reminds me. . . when are you going to start having children? You and Angela have been married for quite some time."

"When I'm old," Damon replied quickly, looking away. In his periphery, he could see Gregory frown.

"You're almost forty, you know."

"Give it ten more years, Edgey. I'm sure our sons can play together."

"You mean when you're Chief of Police and I'm more than just a struggling attorney?"

"Exactly. And until then, I'll be a wonderful uncle."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes. Besides, you'll have to borrow my pool to teach Miles how to swim. The least you can do is let me pretend to be an uncle while he's there."


End file.
